Y
anky hung up the phone with obvious irritation and went to see if Raizele needed any more help with the packing. Tomorrow they would be joining the extended Kleiner family at Beit Chilkiyah for a short vacation.
Raizele paused in the middle of folding the children’s clothes and looked up at him. “Your clothing is going into the small suitcase, okay?” she said. “Who was that on the phone?”
“A nudnik.”
“What did he want?”
“To annoy me.”
“It looks like he succeeded.”
“It was Levron, the secretary of the mosdos. I don’t know who told him to call me, or who thought up the whole silly idea. They’re looking for a babysitter for Sandy Eliav’s son. He’s supposed to be coming here for a long visit after Yom Tov, and they want someone in the beis medrash to make him feel welcome, invite him now and then for a Shabbos meal. Basically, to babysit.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-three? Twenty-eight? I don’t know. What do I care how old he is? I’m not taking the job.”
